Saru mo ki kara ochiru
by MiniHayden
Summary: So, thinking back, Roy's life had had its interesting moments, but nothing could possibly come above this. Is that tiny thing really Edward? What happened to his memories if it is?
1. Chapter 1

**Me: Hey… guys…**

**Danny: No excuses, Hayden.**

**Me: Bu-**

**Danny: None. At all.**

**Me: *looks at the floor* Ok…**

**Danny: I'm sure you're all waiting for A New Way to Bleed. Don't worry, it's almost coming. That's what the Christmas holidays are for, right? But for now, enjoy this!**

**Saru mo ki kara ochiru, Chapter 1:**

It was without a doubt that Roy Mustang had seen a lot in his thirty-year-old life.

At an extremely young age, he was adopted by a single woman. She was a little rough around the edges, with her main job being the owner of a downtown bar, but he couldn't have asked for a better mother. She raised him with manners, fed him well and punished and rewarded him accordingly. He'd felt confident enough to share his problems with her, and she with him. Not that they had many; they were generally happy. They still are.

When he was in his late teens, Roy had signed up for military school, training with an alchemist in his free time. He began to get a sense of the country's political situation, and the feeling that something wasn't completely right was what drove him up the ranks. He trained as hard as he could and eventually became a state alchemist, earning himself the title of Major and 'Flame'. His teacher had passed away, intrusting his secret alchemy that was inscribed on his only daughter's back to Roy. The girl was now one of his loyal subordinates, and he felt that he was more than obliged to protect her.

Then the great war of Ishbal came, and he was forced to kill. He _hated_ it. The images of the people he had burnt with his power were forever engraved in his mind, his only comfort being that those close to him had shared the same experience. On the contrary, it moved him up again. Not long after that he was transferred to Central Command.

He was getting closer.

And then his closest friend, Maes Hughes had been shot and killed. That really hit home for him, and the Elric brothers too, apparently – two skilled alchemists who were in a similar situation of a dark past like him. The older one, Edward, annoyed the hell of out him, and it was clear this was the same for the boy. Roy was never sure what to make of the younger brother, Alphonse, the poor soul trapped in an unfeeling suit of armour. He was so quiet and polite. Not very cut out for a military career. This was good, because, unlike Ed who had taken Mustang's place as the youngest-qualifying state alchemist in history, he wasn't in it.

Currently, his job was divided into a comfortable mix between fieldwork and time in his office, the only problem with the latter being the paperwork – something which he would much rather live without. His daily routine was the same unless there was a particular issue, or sometimes he would be chosen to oversee budding state alchemists' exams. The pay was just right, too – enough to survive with a little extra for his own enjoyment, but not too much to put his head in the clouds.

So, thinking back, his life had had its interesting moments, but nothing could possibly come above this.

The black haired man lowered his head further, squinting to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him. His mouth hung open and he adjusted his crouched position so that his shadow would not get in the way of the sunlight shining down above him.

Here he was, in his garden, with his fingers digging into the soil beneath them, staring at a _thing._

Well, it was a _thing_ because he really wasn't sure what it was.

He blinked, moving his head as close as possible without losing focus.

The _thing_ appeared to be a tiny… person?

It was no bigger than the palm of his hand and its features were hard to make out because it was so dirty – he could barely see anything apart from long hair. Dark, torn rags were its only clothing. Nothing on its feet. And… were they…?

_Wings._

The thing had _wings._

Roy jerked back, almost getting up and walking away. He was obviously imagining things – he still had the remnants of that morning's hangover, after all. Too much to drink again. He bit on his bottom lip and eyed the little person again, trying to convince himself that it wasn't there. It was just some ground he was staring at, not a person. Of course it was.

But it looked _hurt._ It was sleeping, but its face seemed scrunched up and its chest was rising and falling rapidly, short breaths weakly coming from its slightly open mouth. It looked so… helpless.

With a sigh, the colonel put a muddy hand to his forehead and shook his head. What was he doing?

Carefully, he picked the thing off the ground and laid it out on his left hand as he stood up, heading inside with a reluctant expression on his face.

He closed the door behind him to keep the chill autumn air out and set the thing down on the table, with a towel underneath it to keep the surface clean. He washed his hands afterwards then came back to it again, placing his hands on his hips in thought.

What was he supposed to do now?

_Think, Roy, think,_ he told himself, pacing back and forth a little then turning around to inspect it yet again. He could see traces of blood on its side and his eyes widened slightly, having barely realised it was injured until now – he thought the thing was simply just cold. Instinctively he ran to his kitchen, grabbing some cotton wool and tweezers from his first-aid box then running the former under the tap to make it damp.

Mustang rushed back to the table and sat down at one of the chairs, leaning over on an elbow. He held his right hand forward and pressed down, gently dabbing the thing's wounds with the cotton wool. It jerked as he did so, and made some small, barely audible noises.

_Good, it's alive,_ he thought, drying it off with a corner of the towel, _now I just need to see if it wakes up._

He sat there for a while, taking in the creature's features properly now it was clean enough to see. Its hair was long and blonde – a good length down its back, so Roy's first reaction was that, whatever it was, it was female. But it's flat chest and squarer features told him afterwards that this was not the case. His wings – if they indeed were wings – were a dim silver, almost transparent. They held wispy patterns and reflected the light at random angles as his chest moved up and down, flickering occasionally. Roy couldn't tell his age.

An hour had passed and still no progress regarding the creature's condition had been made. The colonel had been shooting off random theories to what it actually was to himself for half of that time, the other spent sat at the table just waiting for the damned thing to wake up. How long was it going to take? Hours? Days? _Weeks, _even_?_

The man poured some boiling water into a mug and tipped in some instant coffee, stirring it lazily as he thought. His strongest thought was that that creature lying injured on his table was some sort of tree sprite, or faerie, but that had only been confirmed by old children's books he had kept as keepsakes. They didn't exist really. Hopefully. He didn't want more problems.

Roy took a sip and threw the teaspoon into the sink, heading back to the creature again…

…Just in time to see his eyes flutter open.

The little thing pulled himself up with a tiny groan, shaking a little as he did so. His wings remained lifeless and brushed limply against the surface of the table as he stood up, blinking. A frown was set deep into face and he observed the room around him slowly, as if judging everything he was looking at. His eyes eventually came to rest steadily on Mustang, who was standing completely still, coffee mug still in his hand.

"Where the hell am I?" the creature asked, rather impolitely. His voice surprisingly loud and strong, considering his size and condition.

Roy gawked at him, almost dropping his drink.

"Uh… my house," the man took a step closer.

The thing put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows sarcastically, "oh really? I wouldn't have guessed…"

"Well why did you ask, then?" Roy retorted, temporarily forgetting the situation.

"I dunno," he shrugged, folding his arms, "where did you find me, anyway, bastard?"

"Bastard?" the colonel echoed angrily, "I just saved your life. You should be thanking me, runt."

The creature stamped a foot down, emitting a rather big thud from the hollow wood, "did you just call me small? No one calls me small and gets away with it!"

Something clicked in his mind and his eyes widened.

Roy set his mug down and rushed forward, picking him up in hands.

"Hey! What the hell? Get off me, Bastard!"

The colonel brought the thing up to his face, taking in his features. Long blonde hair, flaming golden eyes…

"Fullmetal?" he breathed.

**Danny: Well? Did you guys enjoy that little prologue?**

**Me: I want to know where you think I'm going with this. What do you think will happen? :0**

**Danny: See you next time, everybody!**


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone,

I've put this on all my fics now because I want everyone to see it. My writing has improved a lot, and I want to rewrite all my stories, and the best way for me is to start a new account and begin working on the ones with which I get the most response. I'm not going to drag on about my reasons.

Basically, if you want this fic right here updated, put a vote in on my profile. I'll take priority with the ones that get the most, although I can guarantee that no matter how long it takes, they'll all eventually go up, rewritten in all their glory.

My new username is Gilbert's Left Arm, and there is one fic up there for the Pandora Hearts fandom which me and my friend have written based on a roleplay we did together. Enjoy that if you like. But, for now, please tell me what you want to see redone, and then updated. I hate letting people down.


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